The role-playing exercise in which you are about to participate is an account of the tragedy which befell a group of five friends, in particular Norville “Shaggy” Rogers and his faithful pal Scoobert “Scooby” Doo. It is all the more tragic in that they were young. But, had they lived very, very long lives, they could not have expected, nor would they have wished to see, as much of the mad and macabre as they were to see that night. For them, an idyllic autumn drive became a nightmare. The events of that night were to lead to the discovery of one of the most bizarre and squamous extra-dimensional horrors in the annals of American history, The Coolsville Shoggoth Massacre.

Based on a true ( ?) story by Dave B.

We play tomorrow. Report to follow.

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

I was gonna write an epic, novella-length, after-action report sprinkled with purple prose and flowery language. However, due to dog-tired-ness and one-too-many beers, I will spare you the infamous Wall-o'-Text, and break it up into bite-sized chunks.

When it's done, I'll offer up some notes, observations and lessons-learned from runnin' this scenario, for anyone who's interested.
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The game begins with the crackling, popping, film-flutter sounds of an old grindhouse movie, complete with that kinky hair that moves up the edge of the screen until it finally disappears.

I then read the opening narration at the top of this thread, cribbed from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. The players are already on edge.

Then I cue the Scooby theme. Nervous laughter all around. Having set the tone, we move on to...

Act 1: Scene 1 -- The Malt Shop

The gang is sitting at a booth, Shag 'n' Scoob chowin' down and trying to ace each other out of the last slice of egg-avocado-and-kumquat pizza. Friendly banter about the "Monsters of Rock" Halloween concert tonight, for which they have tickets, courtesy of Daphne's daddy.

There's a commotion from the counter of the malt shop, when Ol' Man Smithers stands up and begins his rant...

He's overheard the gang's conversation, and starts babbling about the evils of rock music, drugs, and Things Man Was Not Meant To Know. He grabs a steak knife and points it at the gang...

"The devil is in all of ya!"

The red-faced malt shop owner, throwing off his cap and apron, steps from behind the counter and points to the door.

I hope you growled that in your best Charlton Heston, Planet of the Apes voice, as in, "Take your stinking paws off me, you...!"

Anyway, just to be clear, this is my take on Dave B's scenario, follows the same basic structure, and includes Sitting Duck's PC write-ups. I've added scenes and made some other alterations which will become apparent as the story unfolds.

It’s late afternoon. Everything is bathed in the orange-red light of the setting sun.

The Mystery Machine cruises down a neglected two-lane highway that runs through the middle-of-nowhere. Corn fields, a creaky windmill, a grain silo, a derelict oil well, an abandoned gas station, weird hillbilly folk-art adorning the few rusted mailboxes.

Scoob and Shaggy are in the back playing air-guitar/drums to the song on the radio. More banter from Freddy, Daphne and Velma about tonight's concert and the creepy old man at the malt shop.

Daphne: "Freddy, are you sure this is the right way to the show?"

Freddy: "Don't worry Daph, I know a shortcut. We’ll be there in no time."

Velma: "Oh Freddy, you and your shortcuts..."

The gang spots a lone figure on the roadside ahead. As they draw closer, they can make out a bear of a man, well over 6’ tall, with long, stringy blonde hair and a grizzly, belly-length beard. Bell-bottoms. Denim jacket. Duffelbag over his shoulder.

He looks over his other shoulder and sticks out his thumb.

Daphne: “Hey look, a hitch-hiker! I wonder if he’s going to the concert too. Pull over Freddy.”

At this point, my players are screamin’.

Shaggy: “Like, no way! Remember what happened the last time we picked up a hitch-hiker!”

As the Mystery Machine pulls alongside the hitcher, Freddy guns it, leaving the guy in a cloud of dust.

Freddy: “Nothin’ doin’ gang!”

Darkness falls with a resounding BOOM. A moment later, Freddy leaves the pavement and sharply turns onto a dirt road…
Freddy continues, “Picking up strangers is never a good idea. Remember, ’Safety First’.” he says, as he flicks on the headlights.

Velma: “Freddy! Look out!!”

For a split second, a figure is bathed in the headlights, wide-eyed, its arms waving above its head.

There is the sound of tires skidding on the dirt road, and a sickening WHUMP.

Dead silence from my players. Their eyes are like saucers.

They sit there for a moment, debating who’s gonna get outta the van and check it out. Daphne offers a Scooby Snack. Shaggy shoves poor Scoob out. Scooby hangs in mid-air, his paws scrambling for a moment, before hitting the ground.

He heads over to the broken, rag-doll body in the road, sniffing cautiously.

Scooby: “Ruh-Roh…”

The gang gets out and gathers around the victim, bathed in the glare of the headlights.

The Gang (in unison): “Old Man Smithers!!”

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

At this point, I was really hopin’ my players would panic and do something stupid. Hide the body, make a run for it, fight the Law… No such luck. I even hinted that a Backwoods Cop would looove to search a van-full of hippy kids on their way to a rock concert. Oh, well.

The police car stops and the Sheriff himself steps out. Big hat, big badge, big swagger, hand on the butt of his big gun. No-nonsense. He looks and sounds very much like the actor Bobby Lee Bones. (Note: Some names have been changed to protect the innocent (that is, me myself) from blood-suckin’ lawyers.)

Playing to character, The Mystery Inc. gang does the right thing, and spills their guts. (Wussies. )

Clicking on his big flashlight, the Sheriff walks to the back of the Mystery Machine, checkin’ it out.

Sheriff: “You kids wanna tell me just what-the-hell this is…?”

There is a strange marking scratched into the back of the van, large enough to cover both doors. A five-pointed star, with a flame like a campfire in the center.

The Sheriff walks back to the body of Ol’ Man Smithers and examines it for a moment. He pries open a clenched fist, rigor mortis already setting in.

A steak knife. Blue paint flakes on the tip.

My players are soiling their undies by now.

Sheriff: “Well, it was only a matter of time. Son-of-a-B!tC# was crazy ya know.”

He takes statements from each of them, points out the shortest route to the concert, and sends them on their way. He then gets on the radio to call it in…

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

Pretty freaked-out, the Mystery Inc. kids continue down the dirt road, hoping to find the Interstate. Freddy is takin’ some heat about his “shortcuts”. Talk eventually turns back to the “Monsters of Rock” concert.

Freddy: “OK gang… It’s not all my fault. Accidents happen. Just a little bump in the road…”

The Gang (in unison): “EWWWW…”

Freddy: “What I mean is, we’ll get there. We might be late for the opening act, but we won’t miss the headliners.”

Just then, a rattling metal-on-metal sound comes from the engine of the Mystery Machine.

My players are cursin’ up a storm. But they’re diggin’ it.

The noise gets louder. Steam starts rising from under the hood. They stop once again. In the darkness. In the middle-of-nowhere.

It seems the Mystery Machine has taken some damage from the unfortunate encounter with ‘Ol Man Smithers (God rest his nutty soul). The front end is dented, fan blade is bent, radiator nearly punctured, water boiling out…

Freddy shuts down the van, then flicks off the lights to save the battery. As their eyes grow accustomed to the night, the gang notices a solitary house just off the road at the end of a long driveway.

More cursin’, only louder...

Shaggy: “Zoinks! Like, getta’ load o’ that creepy ol’ fixer-upper!”

Velma, Daphne, and Freddy start trekkin’ up the drive toward the house, hoping to find help, or at least a telephone.

True-to-form, Shaggy and Scooby are havin’ none of that. They’re staying in the van, and not even a Scooby Snack can budge ‘em.

Velma: “OK. You two stay here. Alone. In the middle-of-nowhere. With Ol’ Man Smithers on your mind. And that weird hitch-hiker still out there on the road. On Halloween. And hey, look at that… there’s a full moon tonight…”

Putting up a tough front, the two pals hang back as long as they can, until they get spooked and race to catch up with their friends.

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

The gang walks up the creaky steps to the porch and knocks on the door. No answer. All of the windows appear to be either shuttered or boarded up. Trying the doorknob, they find it unlocked, and enter the house, Scooby and Shaggy whimpering the entire time.

Once they’re all inside, a sudden gust of wind slams the door closed, jamming it into the frame. No amount of force can open it. The kids find themselves in total darkness.

Shaggy flicks on his lighter. They find themselves standing at the end of a hallway that stretches off into the darkness, doors to either side. Some are open, some not. Velma calls out. No answer.

Entering the first room off the hall, they discover what must be the living room. There’s trash strewn on the floor, and a ripped couch with the stuffing poking through. An old ‘60s-era TV set, complete with rabbit-ear antennas, stands on a table in the corner. The smell of mildew permeates the air.

The gang deduces that no one’s lived here for years. Velma tears a piece of cloth from the couch, wraps it around a broken chair leg, then holds it out while Shaggy sets it aflame with his lighter.

Note: In our game, we didn’t have enough players to fill-out the Mystery Inc. crew, so I ended up with Freddy as an NPC. This turned out to be a Good Thing, which I’ll discuss a bit more at the end.

Velma, a little ticked-off that Freddy didn’t mention the flashlight earlier: “Freddy, don’t you think maybe we should split-up? You could take Daphne and look around, while we poke around here?”

Freddy: “I’ve got a better idea, Velma. You take Shag and Scoob and poke around here, while Daphne and I take a look around.”

Yes, the way I played Freddy, everyone wanted to kick his @$$.

Velma, Shaggy and Scooby press on. They hear a scurrying, scratching noise, followed by the sound of glass breaking. Following it, they find themselves in the kitchen.

In an effort to speed things up, I’ll spare you some of the descriptions. The rest of the house is in the same condition as the living room. Stinky, nasty, rotten, run-down, etc.

Shag and Scoob raid the cupboards. All of the stuff here is rotten, but they find a pantry stocked with fresh food and canned goods. Very strange…

While Velma mulls this over, the other two start whippin’ up a snack. Shaggy flubs his Cooking roll, and comes up with a concoction so disgusting that neither of them will eat it.

Scooby, holding his nose with one paw, tossing Shag’s creation into the trash with another: “Ruck!”

Getting a raise on his own Cooking roll, Scoob produces a giant, triple-decker, hero-sub-sandwich-with-the-works. The two pals start at either end, and the sub is gone in a matter of seconds.

Suddenly, there’s a crashing sound, followed by the scurrying noise again. The trio whips around in time to see a tail going out the door into the hall. The garbage can is knocked over, the contents strewn across the floor.

Scooby takes off after it into the darkness. Racing to catch-up, Velma and Shaggy find him down the hall doing his “pointer-routine”. He’s gesturing to a partially open door.

Pushing the door open reveals a small storage room littered with boxes and other junk. Scoob rushes inside, sniffing, nose to the floor. He finds the end of the pink, hairless tail sticking out from under the clutter.

Shaggy: “Hey, what’cha got Scoob? A cat?”

Velma: “That’s no cat, Shaggy. It looks like a giant rat!”

Scooby touches the tail with his nose. He suddenly finds himself face-to-face with black, beady eyes and a long, pointy snout full of nasty, jagged teeth. The ‘possum hisses, latches onto Scooby’s nose for a second, then skitters away.

While Scooby nurses his throbbing nose, Velma discovers a large black trunk with some numbers stenciled on it with white spray-paint. Displayed prominently on the side is a five-pointed star, a pentagram. It’s similar to, but not exactly like, the one scratched into the back of the Mystery Machine.

Zonbi pushes his way into the storage room and opens the trunk. He begins to rummage through it, explaining…

Bob Z.: “This is my gear, man. We were on our way to the ‘Monsters’ gig, when somebody tipped me off about this place. Sounded like a sick spot to shoot a video, or collect some footage for my next B-movie extravaganza. We had plenty of time, so I thought I’d bring a couple of guys from the crew and check it out.”

He continues going through the contents of the trunk. Video cables, makeup, props, etc.

Bob Z.: “Awww, man… where’s my mask? Probably in another trunk. Anyway, I must’ve taken a bad step, ‘cuz I woke up at the bottom of the stairs with a knot on the back of my skull, and one hell of a headache. Next thing I know, my guys are gone, and I can’t find a way outta’ this dump.”

Velma, Shag and Scoob give their story, and with Bob in tow, continue their search of the house. They discover a dining room, study, and bathroom on this floor (all in decrepit condition, but with nothing of interest) before coming to the end of the hall. A rickety staircase leads up to the next floor.

Their torch sputtering a bit, they head up. This floor is laid out much like the one below, a long hall with doors to each side. Entering the first door they come to, they find themselves in a bedroom. As usual, everything is filthy and in disarray.

While tip-toeing around, Scooby’s paw goes through a rotten floorboard. Beneath, the gang discovers a musty tome, bound in some strange hide, and embossed with disturbing markings and sigils.

I gave Velma’s player a scrap of paper detailing the origins of the book, just so she could read it aloud and sound nerdy. Of course, it’s the freakin’ Necronomicon. I thought about substituting some other, more-obscure text, but since this is an over-the-top Halloween one-shot, I decided to go all-out.

At this point, the furniture starts to rattle and shake, and a supernatural wind starts to pick-up in the little room, growing into a cyclone. Drawers fall from the dresser, and a strangely carved obsidian knife clatters to the floor…

Note: Here, I combined a couple of elements from Dave B.’s scenario into one.

Like a scene from Poltergeist, the furnishings whirl through the air, battering the quartet around. The weird knife takes on a life of its own. It flies about like a guided missile, slashing and stabbing.

The accursed thing zeroes-in on poor Scooby, pinning his tail to the wall. Shaggy jumps to the aid of his howling pal, wrenching the knife from the plastered wall.

With a mighty gust of ghostly wind, the bedroom window shatters and the shutters fly open, flapping in the gale. The torch blows out…

Bob Zonbi lurches to the window, his voice barely audible over the noise: “This is our chance, man! C’mon, let’s get the hell outta’ here!”

The bed, mattress, frame and all, flies through the air and slams into poor Bob, sending him through the window to the ground below, screaming all the way.

The wind immediately ceases, and everything drops to the floor. All is silent.

The gang rushes to the window, scanning the ground below. Bob lies in the grass, his limbs and neck bent at very wrong angles, like a marionette with the strings cut.

My players: “ ”

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

About this time, Freddy and Daphne rush into the room, asking about the commotion. Shaggy pockets the weird knife, which now seems to be an inanimate, if disturbing, piece of cutlery. Velma, Shaggy and Scooby recount the events since the group split up.

Velma: “By the way… Where were you two?”

Freddy, adjusting his groovy ascot: “We were poking around behind the house…”

Daphne, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress: “Looking.”

Freddy: “…right… looking around behind the house. There’s an old shed back there. Maybe we can find some tools to fix the Mystery Machine.”

The gang runs downstairs and out the back door of the house, which was locked earlier…

Inside the rickety shack, the group finds some freaky, hillbilly, animal-bone, art projects. There are also rusty tools and potential weapons. Freddy picks up a wrench and crowbar, in the hopes of repairing their ride. Daphne grabs a crusty, wooden-handled machete.

Note: I gave my players several options, and every opportunity, to arm themselves. In our game, Shaggy’s player was content with his eldritch knife, Scooby’s player decided he couldn’t wield a weapon, and Velma’s player just wasn’t interested in combat.

In the corner of the shed, the gang discovers a coffin. One of those angled, toe-pincher coffins like Dracula sleeps in, with black lacquer and brass hardware. Of course, Velma opens it.

Fozzy steps out of the coffin, taking care not to stumble over the plastic axe, rubber body parts and other props that spill out. The gang lends him a helping hand as he begins to explain in his mumbling, slurred, heavily-accented voice…

Shaggy: “Like, I can dig it Scoob! I can barely make out a word he’s sayin’!”

Here’s the upshot: Frazzled from the hectic “Monsters of Rock” tour schedule, Fozzy indulged himself with a little hot toddy, missed the bus on purpose, and snuck off for a nap while the roadies packed up the gear. That’s the last thing he remembers.

Fozzy gets a good look at Scoob in his get-up. They look like twins.

Fozzy: “ ‘At’s the homeliest woman I ever seen… Bloody ridiculous…”

The Mystery Inc. gang, Fozzy in tow, runs down the long driveway, back to their van. Handing Shaggy the flashlight, Freddy hops in the driver’s seat and pops the hood.

Shaggy, shaking his head: “It’s gone…”

Freddy: “Don’t worry, we’ll get it running again.”

Shaggy: “Like, it’s GONE, Freddy…”

Sure enough, the engine block of the Mystery Machine is missing. Without a trace.

Panic ensues, but my players are getting’ used to it.

An eerie mist begins to creep up, hugging the tree roots … The mist coalesces into a thick, soupy fog. A lone figure approaches…The fog begins to glow with a supernatural light. Another figure appears. Then another, and another, silhouetted in the light of the full moon. Their eyes burn a fiery red…

An unearthly chanting begins, in a strange tongue, an unholy choir singing songs Man Was Not Meant To Hear.

The gang hauls @$$ back up the drive to the house, the Fog curling ‘round their heels. The door, of course, is jammed shut.

Freddy jams the crowbar into the frame. The rest of the gang apply themselves, popping the door open.

Once inside, they barricade the door, safe for the moment…

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

Peering through the cracks in the shutters, the gang sees nothing but dense fog illuminated by the light of the full moon. They hear the occasional strange noise, but there are no visible signs of the ominous figures. Not willing to go back outside, the group decides to continue their investigation of the house.

Heading back upstairs, they return to the bedroom where they found the book and knife. Hoping to get a better view of their situation, they look down through the shattered window. The Fog ebbs and flows in the faint breeze, offering brief glimpses of the ground below.

It’s tough to see, but… no shadowy figures… nothing on the ground… Nothing… on the ground… wait… … but, it’s hard to tell…

The shutters slam shut.

A bit more freakin’ out from my players before they press on. The flashlight beam is noticeably dimmer.

They find a hall closet with a smear of fresh blood on the floor. They find a second bathroom, the tub filled with murky, reddish water. Velma pushes the sleeve of her sweater up almost to the shoulder and thrusts her hand into the water, feeling around with her fingers…

The rest of the gang cringes, but all she finds is the chain of a rubber stopper. She pulls it, draining the tub.

Moving to the next door down the hall, they enter another bedroom. This one has circus clowns painted on the peeling plaster. A rag-doll clown sits in a child’s rocking chair in the corner. On the floor is a thin book… “The Rats in the Walls”, by Dr. Spooks.

As Daphne opens it, a filthy, folded scrap of paper falls to the floor. Freddy picks up the note and scans it briefly. Visibly shaken, he quickly hands it to Shaggy. It’s a page of gibberish, scrawled in the hand of a madman. The Mystery Inc. kids study it for a bit, but can’t make heads-or-tails of it. Not even Fozzy, who is fluent in gibberish, has a clue.

Just then, the flashlight dies, pitching them into inky blackness. In a creepy-clown room.

My players start whining. Crybabies.

Shaggy fumbles for his lighter… Velma tries to fashion another torch… More gripin’ at Freddy…

There’s a CLICK, and flashlight beam pierces the darkness.

Fozzy, shining it around: “C’mon, we’re not bloody cavemen, y’know.”

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

Freddy turns the dial, clicking up and down the airwaves. This show is on every channel, cut through with bursts of static…

Velma, realizing there’s no electricity in the house, gropes around behind the TV. She holds up the gnawed-through end of the power cord, bare wire exposed.

Suddenly, the show starts to move backwards, like a video-tape or DVD in Rewind mode. The characters on the screen retrace their steps in an eerie way. The soundtrack slips and slinks, burbling, repeating itself over and over again in a very disturbing way.

It sounds like THIS. (Note: Click at your own risk. I will not be held accountable for any Sanity loss incurred. )

My players re-read the crazy note, piecing it together…

It’s a phonetic transcription of the mind-bending sounds coming from the ghostly TV.

I've often speculated why you don't return to America. Did you abscond with the church funds? Run off with a senator's wife? I like to think you killed a man. It's the Romantic in me.

There’s a quick burst of static, then the television goes dead. A faint glow lingers on the tube for a moment, then dies out.

Eerie, sing-song voices can be heard back towards the stairwell. Velma snatches the flashlight from Fozzy and steps out into the hall, shining the beam around. The rest of the group follow cautiously. Two curious shapes move… bounce?... up the passageway, reciting a familiar, yet twisted verse.

Rob the Tomato hops from the shadows and into the ray of Velma’s flashlight, producing a wicked-looking vegetable peeler.

Rob, leaning forward with a leer, eyebrows waggling: “…Have we got a show for you!”

Terry the Cucumber bounces forward to join him, producing a chainsaw. Laughing maniacally, he yanks on the starter cord…